


slow dance with you

by redrocketracer



Category: South Park
Genre: (its not just craig w/ a crush), A chapter a day keeps the doctor away, Character with PTSD, Crushes, Fluff, Group Therapy, M/M, Mental Illness, Panic Attacks, Pining, Slow Dancing, Some angst, Therapy, abuse trigger warning, past abusive relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-10 13:02:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15949895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redrocketracer/pseuds/redrocketracer
Summary: It’s then, that it dawns on Craig.He doesn’t know how to dance.*****Craig has a huge crush on Thomas, who goes to the same group therapy as him every week. When their psychiatrist office hosts a dance for the group therapy patients, their friends and family. Craig decides this is when he will make his move. The problem is: he doesn’t know how to dance.Enter: Kenny. Tricia’s friend and someone in his senior class. Who loves to dance.Kenny agrees to teach Craig how to dance if he promises to hang out with him.Though Craig can’t fathom why Kenny would want to hang out with him, he agrees.





	1. positive affirmations

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a one shot but I SUCK at writing one shots. 
> 
> But anywho, this is based off my boyfriend and I’s pinky promise to slow dance on every anniversary and all of my birthdays. I wanted to write something sweet....ish.
> 
> This is also based on some trauma related things I’ve been through. Please be gentle. Be safe.

Craigs hazel eyes stare into the poster slapped onto the announcement board of the psychiatrist office. It’s nothing really out of the ordinary, just a dance organized for people in his group therapy and their family, friends. He rips it off from where it was stapled down. Folding it, neatly into a little square, then stuffs it into his pocket.

 

With a sigh, he closes the distance between himself and the waiting room. He has 15 minutes before his mom is to pick him up. She insists on it, even though Craig is now 18 for 6 months and has his license. His gaze falls on his friend from therapy, Thomas. Who smiles at him, motioning to the seat next to him.

 

Craig takes it, keeping his stare forward. He’s bad at eye contact, always has been.

 

“Titty fuck! Did you like—SHITBALLS! Group today?” Thomas lets out. Craig blinks, unfazed by this. He used to think it was so cool, he still does. If he didn’t know Ms. Candace, the woman who leads the group. He would kill to be able to say shitballs to her. She’s a fine woman, soft and gentle. While Craig hates almost anyone in some sort of authority, she’s hard to dislike.

 

“Yeah.” He responds, easily. His green eyes are on a poster reminding patients to take their meds. His own are left on the nightstand next to his bed. A PRN, prescribed as needed bottle of vistaril. It’s been awhile since he’s had to take it. Though Craig remembers days where he’d numbly stare into the patterns on wall. Tears falling from dark lashes. Hands frozen at his sides. Heart stammering, the sound of his mother’s concerned and pleading voice distant. His father in the doorway. He remembers knowing he was there but also not and her gentle prying open of his mouth. Pressing the rim of glass cup to his lips. Where he’d eventually gulp down the pill and water.

 

That was a long time ago.

 

Somewhere along the lines his mother phoned a friend from the hospital she worked at. Then Craig was put in therapy, which turned into group therapy when his therapist decided he was ready.

 

Thomas, who Craig knew from some weird circumstances where Eric Cartman was pretending to have Tourette’s. Was present and Craig instantly felt more at ease to be with a friend.

 

Craig’s attention drifts away from the poster and he turns to Thomas. Looking at his forehead instead of his eyes.

 

“I liked that she—FART NUGGETS! Got everyone to say one—shit balls! Thing we like about each other” Thomas expresses. Craig can’t help the smile that forms on his mouth. He takes his lower lip between two rows of teeth while he does so. It’s awkward. Braces and all.

 

“Uh, yeah. It was cool.” It was pretty cool. He has a paper with everything everyone in the group has said about him. Thomas’ was that he likes how he feels like Craig always listens, and appreciates what people have to say. Even if he never says anything back.

 

It’s underlined on his paper. Craig’s heartbeat quickened when it was Thomas’ turn. A blush spreading across his tan cheeks.

 

He remembers what he said to Thomas, too. In a nasal, dry voice.

 

‘I like that you’re my friend.’ It was stupid and the only thing he could think to say. He said it anyways, first thing that came to mind was the first thing that came out of his mouth. It’s true, though. Craig likes being Thomas’ friend. Sometimes they hang out outside of therapy. Will go to the movies together or take photos of animals at the Denver aquarium.

 

As soon as Craig turns away from Thomas his phone dings, a text from his mom. Craig stands and digs his hands into his coat pockets. He goes to the door, only to awkwardly turn around and wave at Thomas. Who waves back.

 

*

 

“How was therapy, son?” Craig’s stepfather questions as Craig picks at his dinner. Awkwardly enough, he’s also named Thomas. Craig does not take his eyes off his food.

 

“It was okay,” he responds. Thomas lets out a hum. Craig is itching to ask about going to the dance thing. It sits in the back of throat though. Stuck, not wanting to fall off his tongue.

 

Before he can get it out, Tricia pipes in.

 

“Kenny is picking me up so we can all go to the football game tonight.” Tricia lets out. Craig pushes around his mashed potatoes. Eventually opting to rest his fork to the side.

 

“May I be excused?” He questions. His mom, who is texting her boss, nods her head to say yes. Craig pushes himself away from the table, the foot of his chair scraping against hardwood floor.

 

He gathers his plate and eating utensils, listening to the conversation his sister is having with little interests.

 

She, Kenny and Karen are inseparable. Or at least it seems that way to Craig. The three of them are always so loud when Craig wants some peace.

 

“Why don’t you go Craig? Don’t you need to get some sport shots for the yearbook?” Craig comes to a halt as his father says this. He does. He’s avoided going, however. Usually deciding to leave the sports photography to someone, anyone but him. There was always too much people, which is weird to say since school functions always had too many people. However, photographing the debate team and photographing sports events were vastly different.

 

Craig keeps quiet about this, however. Turning the handle to the sink so he can fill the bucket where the dishes are to soak.

 

“I don’t want to go. I think Token wanted to do that one.” He responds easily. Craig can feel Tricias’s eye roll a mile away.

 

“Well, if you say so.” Thomas accepts this. Craig flicks his wrists to dry them. Then looks up out the window in front of him. Their snowy front yard is illuminated by streetlight. Bathed in a yellowish glow. The streets have already been plowed, and the sidewalks are filled with slushy, dirty white.

 

“I wanted to ask something.” He starts. Craig can feel the weight of the small dance flier in his pocket.

 

“Oh?” Laura finally speaks up. Her blue eyes fall to Craig and she has twisted around in her chair to look at him. He stands in the kitchen, the lights above him makes his head hurt. He can feel the dull thud of his heart in his ears.

 

“There is uh. I wanted to take the car to this thing, next month.” He vocalizes. Tricia looks at him now, interested. Craig never goes anywhere, no parties or outings. If he is going to hang out with someone it’s Clyde or Tweek. They come to him.

 

“What is it?” Laura pries. With Tricia she wouldn’t even question it. Craig knows why she is so cautious of him leaving to go to some unknown destination. It makes him feel almost sick. It happened so long ago. He’s over it. At least he tells himself that. A consistent mantra in his head. Craig keeps his gaze away from her. Focusing on the screen door that leads to their backyard.

 

“A therapy thing. It’s a dance.” Craig responds honestly. Laura nods her head. Then turns back to her dinner.

 

“Sure, honey.” Is all she says. Craig bites at his lower lip, then turns to go upstairs.

 

*

 

**Thomas**

Are you going to the dance?

 

Craig stares at the text in his phone for a good few minutes before responding. He inhales deeply, then presses his thumbs into the letters that form a word.

 

**Craig**

Yes.

  


He puts the phone on his nightstand. Pulls out the affirmations project from therapy. Right.

 

His fingertips run across the words Thomas had said about him. The words Craig has written down, his face heated.

 

He’s got it bad.

 

Craig thinks over every scenario in his head. How he’ll swoop in and take Thomas off his feet. The reverse of that. Of kissing the other. Of burying his face into Thomas’ neck as they slow dance.

 

It’s then, that it dawns on Craig.

 

He doesn’t know how to dance.

  
  
  



	2. teachers and students

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was so excited I couldn’t wait to update!

Craig stares dumbly at the YouTube tutorial on slow dancing. One, two, three—step. It’s all futile. He’s hopeless.

 

With a sigh Craig stuffs his homework into his bag. He was supposed to be researching something for his literature class. Instead his mind is full of how am I supposed to learn to dance in three weeks?

 

He’s got to get to school, anyways. As soon as this thought processes in his head, Tricia is yelling from the bottom of the stairs  for him to “get your ass down here, loser! Kenny’s here!”

 

Craig quickly drops a handful of food into Stripes food bowl. Pushing his arms through the straps of his backpack. He trots down the stairs. Tricia is there, waiting impatiently for him. She leads the way out of their front door, to their front lawn. The snowfall in fresh, coating everything in new layers of it. Little snowflakes twirl down to create even more blankets. Craig can’t help but think that even snowflakes dance better than him.

 

They cross the distance from the front step to Kenny’s truck. The weight of their feet crunch the snow underneath, leaving a path that will soon be covered. Craig climbs into the back seat of Kenny’s truck. Where he always does, by himself. Tricia and Karen sit up front with Kenny. Craig pulls the seatbelt over his frame. Turns his attention to the window. It’s fogged, and Craig presses his pointer finger into the cool surface. He does this most mornings, just sloppily draws something. Today it’s  a ufo.

 

Kenny’s truck purrs to life and Craig watches the scenery pass by. From familiar houses to stores. Craig could probably name who lives or works or owns each of them. South Park is a really small town.

 

“Oh my god, turn this up.” Craig can hear Tricia say as she tampers with Kenny’s radio. Craig can see Kenny’s gap toothed, yellow smile from the rear view mirror. Can hear Karen’s laughter, her head tossed back onto the headrest behind her. Can see Tricia car dance to the music.

 

It’s loud, vibrating off the windows in the confines of the space. As they pull into Park County High, Craig sinks a little in his seat. He hates riding with them.

 

Their friendship started when Kenny and himself were in 8th grade. Tricia and Karen were 6th graders and were attached at the hip. Somehow, Kenny got thrown in the loop. Maybe it’s because Karen started going to Tricia’s track meetings. He tagged along as a sort of bodyguard, as some of the other kids used to make fun of her ratty clothing and oily hair. Tricia would fight for her, but she couldn’t do that while she was running.

 

However it started, it never ended. Kenny was always over the Tucker residence. There used to be a time when it was for him, Craig and Kenny used to be friends. But Craig stopped talking to anyone outside of therapy, school and school functions besides Clyde, Thomas and Tweek after…

 

The car comes to an abrupt halt. Kenny is horrible at breaking and even worse at parking.

 

“Seniors own the year, bitches!” Kenny screams out of his window. Tricia pounds her fist onto the roof of his car.

 

“Sophomores do it better.” Craig hears Karen retort as she hops down from the truck. Craig is gathering his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder. He’s already started walking away, back turnt when he hears Kenny respond.

 

“I don’t know, Craig and I’s class is pretty cool.”

 

It’s weird to hear his and Kenny’s name in the same sentence. As if they were friends, something more than just classmates. There really is not much connecting them outside of sisters and their school year.

 

He shrugs it off, making his way to homeroom.

 

*

 

Lunch is almost always spent at the back of the school, where most of the goth kids hang out. Craig sits a few yards away from them, a cigarette pressed between his lips. He inhales the fumes, then exhales. Trying to blow little o’s.

 

Most days Kenny sits nearby. Craig could never fathom why, he has so many friends in their class. Instead, he leans against the wall next to Craig. Sometimes he bums cigarettes. Today is one of those days. Craig passes him the menthol cig. Keeps his attention out on the football field which is barren at this hour.

 

The goth kids are listening to Oingo Boingo. Again. Craig lets a sigh out, leaning his head against the brick wall behind him. He bares his neck, exposing the length of it.

 

“I think I’ll die if I have to listen to this song again.” Kenny vocalizes as he taps something into his phone. Craig stares at the others hands. Though Kenny quickly stuffs the device back into his pocket as music begins to play. Craig watches as he taps his feet, but then begins to move. Swaying to the music. As the beat drops, he moves his arms with him.

 

Kenny knows how to dance.

 

Craig forgot, it’s not like he pays attention to him enough to remember. Kenny makes it look so natural, the way he moves his body, shaking his hips. It’s like no one is watching and if they are, he doesn’t care. As the song fades out, Kenny lets out a laugh. Flipping off the goth kids who are giving him the nastiest look. He sticks his tongue out at them.

 

“Change up the fucking selection asshole! No one cares if you’re on the outside!” He yells out. Craig looks away, he’s staring and he knows it. The bell signaling lunch ending rings, and Craig packs up his belongings. He gives one final look over his shoulder at Kenny, who is finishing up his cigarette. Wind whips his blond waves in all sorts of directions. He reaches a hand up push some of his locks behind his ear. His cheeks are winter bitten, his nose and ears pink.

 

Craig finally lets the door shut behind him. Making his way to study hall.

 

*

 

So here is the options:

1.Ask Kenny to teach him how to dance

2.Awkwardly wall hug and look like boo boo the fool

 

Craig taps the pen gripped in his hand on the surface of table. He has 10 minutes left of this class, then he meets the golden trio in the parking lot to go home. Craig doesn’t want to bring up the dilemma around Tricia. They don’t hate each other, but they don’t particularly get along. Before things changed, before the incident. They were close, she’d joke around about Tweek, and his next boyfriend. Used to ask if she could be the god mom to their babies. Craig never had the heart to tell her that’s not how it works. Somehow he thinks she already knew by his second boyfriend, anyways.

 

It all kind of fell apart after Craig dated Jason.

 

Craig waves that away. Tries to push any thoughts of his ex from freshman year away. That’s not the focus right now, anyways. He can’t help but feel his heartbeat quicken. Anxiety swelling up in his chest.

 

The final bell rings, and Craig’s tongue darts out to wet his lips. He numbly pushes his arms through the straps of his backpack. Gathers his books, stuffs the paper he was writing on in his pocket.

 

He pushes his way out into the hallway where the entire student body of Park County High School makes way to leave. Craig moves his way through the crowd, finally getting out into the parking lot. He sees Kenny’s truck automatically. It’s parked right out front, Karen and Tricia sitting on the bed. Kenny standing in front of them, arms spread out as he tells some

stupid story.

 

Craig makes his way over, and both Karen and Tricia hop down. Kenny raises his chin at Craig in greetings.

 

Craig’s gaze falls on him. He takes his lower lip between two rows of metal filled teeth. His gaze on Kenny’s forehead. He’s even got freckles there. They adorn the expanse of skin that Craig can see. His arms, hands, neck, face.

 

“I need to ask you something.” Craig confesses. Kenny’s blue eyes widen slightly, like he’s shocked Craig is even talking to him. They go back to their usual size almost instantly. His blond brows furrow.

 

“Oh?” Kenny questions. Karen and Tricia throw each other a look. Craig instantly feels unwelcome. He may ride in the same car as his sister and her friends everyday, but it’s not like hers was his. They were separate people with different belongings, feelings and friends. It’s odd, because Kenny used to be his friend way long ago.

 

“In private.” He specifies. Kenny blinks, looking over to Tricia. She shrugs her shoulder, mouthing that she doesn’t know. Kenny turns back to Craig and motions to the bench in front of the school. Craig makes way while Kenny follows after. The sound of people talking drowns out the silence that would fall as Craig sits down, Kenny next to him.

 

Craig looks straight ahead into the parking lot and Kenny waits patiently. He tries to find the right way to ask this. Digs around for the words to formulate and fall out of his lips.

 

“So.” Craig starts, and he can feel Kenny stare on him. Blue eyes curiously watching him.

 

“Are you going to ask me out?” Kenny pries. Craig chokes a little. As if that is the most bizarre question to ever be asked. He’s never thought of Kenny like that. Well, maybe a little. Fleeting thoughts as he would masturbate. However, it’s Kenny. Kenny with those blue eyes, rimmed by sandy blond lashes. Kenny with the soft, pink lips and freckled skin. Wild wavy hair and light toning from playing lacrosse. Who hasn’t thought of him like that? It was bizarre. It’s his sisters best friend. Kenny is Tricia’s. It is laughable to think of him and Kenny going on a date. He raises a middle finger up at Kenny to emphasis that.

 

“Never.” Craig retorts. He lets a sigh fall from his lips. Then turns to Kenny, keeping his eyes on his neck. The splattering of freckles and moles.

 

“I wanted to know if you could. You know.” Craig tries to start. Kenny nods his head as if he knows what Craig is talking about.

 

“Yeah, you know can mean anything. Bake you cookies, do your homework, beat the crap out of someone.” He pauses at the last one, then grabs onto Craig’s arm. Craig tenses at the touch, and his eyes do fall on Kenny’s for a brief second before flicking to where his hand is curled around Craig’s forearm. It’s tight, like Kenny doesn’t want to let go.

 

“Is Jason out? Is he fucking with you again?” Kenny pries. Of course Kenny knows about Jason. Craig thinks the whole school, no, town knows about it. His name was kept out of any news reports of it because he was a minor. However, that doesn’t mean shit in this redneck, poo-ding, white trash…

 

“No. I just...wanted to know if you could teach me how to dance.” Craig lets out. Kenny lets out a whistle, a sigh of relief. Then pats Craig’s arm. He gives him a once over. Craig feels kind of small when Kenny does this. He’s only a few inches shorter. Kenny had some weird growth spurt after sophomore year. However, he feels his existence. How weird of a question that is. How it must sound coming from skinny, awkward limbed Craig.

 

“Ok. I need some context, though.”

 

"Uhg." Craig lets out. His eyes drift over to Tricia and Karen who are watching them. He licks his lips. Then digs into his coat pocket. Feeling for the little folded up paper.

 

He hands it to Kenny, who takes it. Rolling it over in his hands before unfolding it. The sound of paper rustling is loud on Craig’s ears. He feels a wave of embarrassment wash over him.

 

“A dance.” Kenny states. Craig folds his arms and nods his head, yes.

 

“You never go to dances.” Kenny adds in. Craig rolls his hazel eyes. He takes the paper back, folding it back into its neat little square.

 

“I wanted to...ask someone to dance with me.” Craig replies honestly. Kenny smiles at him. Gap toothed, yellow. Craig finds this to probably be Kenny’s main physical flaw. He’s a perfect little package. Handsome. It’s just his teeth. Though, if Craig were honest it’s almost endearing. He tries to hide his own crooked teeth too much, while Kenny has a major flaw that he just accepts and owns.

 

“Ah.” Kenny says, he dusts of his orange pants. He sounds a bit disheartened by this, though Craig wouldn’t even know why. Kenny pats his knee.

 

“What’s in it for me?” Kenny questions. Craig didn’t think that one through. He has nothing to offer Kenny that Tricia probably doesn’t already provide. She gives him food and sometimes shelter. Money if she has it.

 

Craig taps his fingers against the bench.

 

“What do you want?” Craig pries. Kenny lets out a whistle, then slings his arm around Craig. Again, Craig tenses just a bit by that. It’s not uncomfortable, he’s just not used to people touching him.

 

“Okay. For one, if I’m teaching you how to dance, I’m escorting you there. No! Don’t object. You’re my student. I get to see how much you learned.” Kenny says, cutting Craig off as he’s about to tell him to fuck right off. It’s bad enough Susan from therapy, a girl he’s learned to detest, will be there. But Kenny?

 

“And second, you’re taking me out to dinner after every session and hanging out with me more often.” Kenny finishes. Craig blinks, that’s all? He can’t fathom why Kenny would want to hang out with him. If it means he’ll teach him how to dance, even if it means Kenny escorting him, he’ll take it.

 

“Okay.” Craig responds. He pulls away from Kenny, taking his hand and removing Kenny’s arm from around him. When he’s a few inches apart, he sticks out his hand for Kenny to shake.

 

“It’s a deal, Kenny.”


	3. lacrosse fields

Before things went south, Craig actually liked sports events. He remembers his hands being sticky with butter from popcorn sold at the concession stand. Clyde would steal some from him, popping it into his mouth as he’d watch football players pounce on each other. Token and Jimmy would be there also, they all were still around before Craig started isolating himself. Craig would watch with half lidded, tired eyes, would stand up on two feet and cheer with the rest of his friends.

 

When Jason was introduced, he was just another addition. At least that’s how it started. Craig remembers the first game they went to. He was a freshman with a red, winter bitten nose and cheeks. His hand stuffed in his coat pockets. Craig remembers one detail specifically: Jason would always stick his hand in Craig’s coat pocket, with him. It was sweet, he’d interlace his fingers with Craig’s. Rub his thumb across his knuckles.

 

When it turned sour, especially the night everyone found out about just how bitter it was. Craig remembers feeling fear. He remembers his lips firmly pressed together, pulling his hand out of his pocket and rejecting Jason. He remembers the look on Jason’s face. This half smile that let Craig just know he was pissed. He looked away from Jason’s eyes. Down at the hand he refused to let him hold. Craig’s throat was dry, and he can feel himself quiver.

 

Jason told him somewhere along the lines that his friends were taking too much of their time together. So when he looked up through dark lashes for Clyde, Tweek, Token, anyone. He finds them, but they are far. They’ve been far for months.

 

When Craig came out of the woods behind the school that night, hair tousled with leaves and dirt smeared across his cheeks, the front of his shirt ripped open. Bruises forming on swollen lips and eye, neck, everywhere. Quivering and begging someone, anyone to let him use their phone. It came out. The secret he kept.

 

The cops were called. Jason was in juvie.

 

Craig never went to another game.

 

Not Tricia’s track, not Kenny’s lacrosse, not another football game. Not even for yearbook committee.

 

So when his fingertips run across the metal bleachers of the lacrosse field, cold underneath flesh. Colder as he sits down. Craig feels sick. He agreed to wait for Kenny after his practice. It was stupid. So stupid. Craig’s fingers curl around the edge of the bench and he looks down at his converses.

 

He looks up every so often through dark lashes at Kenny’s figure. Right now he’s talking to one of the newer members of the team. He’s bright. The sun illuminates him, and he glows in it. Hair sunny blond and skin golden.

 

Craig takes in deep breaths. In and out, just like they told him in therapy. He tries to identify as many colors and senses as he can.

 

Green varsity uniform, mixed in with white and black, blond, golden hair. The feeling of bitter winter wind, the contrast of blue on dark grey mountain. Inhale. Exhale.

 

“Are you okay?” Kenny breaks the little bubble of thought. Craig is tight lipped and nods his head. His tongue darts out to wet his lips.

 

“Mhmm.” He says, he begins to stand. Dusting the snow off his legs.

 

He’s fine.

 

It took a lot of therapy, a lot of practice. He is, though. Really. Somehow he thought this would be worse, even though it was still nerve racking. Craig decides he won’t do it again, will just meet Kenny by his truck. While he can handle it, he’d rather not have to.

 

Kenny looks him over, Craig can feel his blue eyes on him. He dares to look at him, his freckled countenance. Craig bites at his lower lip, feels a wave of anxiety wash over his being. He sees the worry there, he doesn’t like it. Craig hates looking at people’s expressions. The face is like written words. Telling the inner emotions of a person. Maybe that’s why he keeps his own face blank, doesn’t give people the chance to read him. Craig quickly looks away.

 

“So. Dancing.” Craig reminds Kenny. Kenny lets out an ah-hah. Then once’s over the field. He’s contemplating something. Craig watches him tap his chin before he turns back to him.

 

“Come on, we’re going to Stan’s shed.” Kenny says as he leads the way to the parking lot by the field. Craig is a bit confused as to why they would go there. However, he doesn’t question it. Craig hasn’t even heard Stan Marsh’s name in a very, very long time.

 

When they arrive at Kenny truck Craig climbs into the passenger seat. He puts his backpack next to him, in the space between him and Kenny. Kenny turns his key in the ignition. Tampering with the radio.

 

“Pick whatever you want, I have a bunch of CDs.” Kenny informs Craig as he changes gears out of park. As he backs up, Craig finds the CD book. He unzips it, looking through the selection. The first thing to come up is an album by a band called graduating life. Craig blinks at it, shocked that Kenny has similar taste in music. He, Karen and Tricia are always listening to rap whenever they’re around each other.

 

Not that Craig dislikes rap, he just has been on an emo and indie kick for the passed year.

 

He picks the disk up, popping it into the slot. There is the sound of the player registering there is a CD, and then the opening lines to the album pick up.

 

‘I’m sitting outsiiiiide. Drinking all alone.’

 

Craig’s sits back into the seat. And turns his head to the window. He can hear Kenny hum along to the lyrics. Can hear him tapping his fingers against the steering wheel.

 

“Good choice, Craig.” Kenny praises as they make a sharp turn. They’re almost to Stan’s. Everything in South Park is closely pressed together, so the distance from Stan’s house from the school is minimal.

 

They could walk there, even.

 

“Uh, thanks.” Craig starts as they come to another abrupt halt. They are at Stan’s, and of course Kenny parks as sloppy as he can. Craig kind of feels like he does it on purpose.

 

“I didn’t expect you to like emo music,” Craig adds in, honestly. It’s not meant to sound pretentious but Craig feels like it does. It’s not like there isn’t a bunch of people who like the genre, Craig just can never get anyone he knows in real life to listen to it. Clyde says it’s too sad, while Tweek swears to some kind of weird conspiracy theory. Thomas listens to everything he sends. However, he usually adds in that it’s ‘not my taste, but it’s nice.’

 

Kenny lets a laugh fall from him lips. Craig looks down at his bare hands. They’re still cold. Kenny doesn’t have heat in his car, Craig doesn’t think he ever has.

 

“Why’s that? Please don’t go all hipster on me, Craig.” Kenny laughs out. Craig rolls his eyes at him, flicks him off.

 

“I just can never get anyone into it.” He responds honestly. Repeating his previous thoughts. Kenny whistles and nods his head.

 

“No, I mean. Karen hates this type of music. Kyle’s always saying that there are people suffering in third world countries so what do whiney white boys have to be sad about? I love it, though.”  Kenny lets out. He’s smiling at Craig and Craig can’t help but to smile too. A small one that is meant to be directed at Kenny but gets sent down to the hands he’s staring at.

 

“See. You get it.” Craig says. Kenny laughs again. Then pulls on the door handle of his truck. Hopping down onto the driveway they are parked in. Stan’s parents car is parked. Kenny doesn’t care though. Craig follows suit as he hops Stan’s fence, walking back towards the shed.

 

When they arrive to it, Craig takes it in. It’s just like any other shed. A bit worn down, paint chipping. Kenny raises his hand and knocks, when there is no response he looks to Craig. Nods his head to signal him to follow after.

 

Inside is cozy. A space heater that is unplugged, Kenny swiftly goes to hook it up to an extension cord. There is a boom box with an six cord not plugged into anything.  A couch that is piss yellow, nothing pretty to look at. A lazy boy, and a rug in the center. Hidden under some things but open in its middle.

 

When the space heater is set up, Kenny plops into the lazy boy. He stretches out like a cat. Craig stand there with his arms folded. This is not his sanctuary, more Stan’s. By the looks of it, Kenny and his friends, too. Their names are scribbled on the walls as well as illustrations done by Craig could only assume the four of them.

 

“So what do you want to learn, Craig? How to whip? Nay nay? Or maybe you’re more of a square dancer?” Kenny pries. Craig is taking off his jacket, placing it on the yellow couch. He bites at his lips again.

 

“I just want to learn how to slow dance.” Craig informs Kenny. Kenny blinks, giving him a certain look Craig can’t decipher. His lashes are low, pink lips parted slightly.

 

“That’s...romantic.” Kenny says, he stands. He puts his hand on Craig’s shoulder, turning him towards him, so he’s face to face with him.

 

“To start, you have to look at me.” Kenny states. Craig blinks, trying to look anywhere but Kenny’s eyes. They end up there anyways. Blue on hazel.

 

“Oh…” Craig is expecting Kenny to pry into him. Try to ask him why he doesn’t give very good eye contact.

 

He doesn’t. Craig is grateful for it. He has a hard time answering himself. He can’t explain it, really. There was just something he could feel like Jason could read all over by looking him in the eyes. A vulnerability.

 

“You have killer eyes. You’ll make mystery guy fall in love with you in one look, promise.” Kenny compliments him. Craig looks down, embarrassed by the attention. Kenny is smiling at him, and he can’t help but smile a little too.

 

“Chin up, first things first, we need music.” Kenny says. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, types something in, tapping away at his phone. Eventually, a song Craig recognizes as that one song from top gun begins to play. Kenny gingerly tosses his phone onto the piss couch.

 

“Okay, now. Put your arms around my neck. I’m going to put my hands on your waist, is that ok?” Kenny questions, Craig bites at his lip at this question. He responds “yes” anyways.

 

Kenny fingers tickle. They gently squeeze at Craig’s bony hips through the fabric of his too big sweater. He looks at Kenny’s eyes, and he doesn’t feel like he’s being calculated or analyzed. It’s just Kenny looking, smiling. It’s not threatening or scary. Craig lets Kenny take the lead.

 

“Just kind of like, follow my lead. It’s really simple, there isn’t much to teach. I’ll just—ow. That’s my foot.”

  


“Sorry.” Craig apologizes at him stepping right down on Kenny’s foot. He expects the other to tell him to fuck off and find a different teacher. He doesn’t, he just chuckles and squeezes at Craig’s sides.

 

“It’s alright, so just move with me…”

 

They practice like that, swaying gently in each other’s arms. Kenny talks to Craig as they do so. Instructing him, or just talking about the songs that come on. How take my breath away was his first song he slow danced too, how Brian McKnight was how he lost his virginity. When You should let me love you, by Mario comes on. The door to the shed opens, and there stands Stan in his PJs.

 

“Uh,” Stan says dumbly. He blinks at the scene. Kenny and Craig slow dancing to the lyrics of “you should let me love you, let me the one to…”

 

“Am I missing something?” Stan pries. He has a glass of milk, and he presses it to his lips. Craig stares at Kenny’s neck. Avoiding Stan’s perplexed gaze that Craig knows is written across his face. Stan and he used to hate each other. There really was nothing to their dynamic anymore, though.

 

“Nah. Teaching Craig how to slow dance. That’s all.” Kenny says easily. Like he does this all the time. Stan shrugs, and moves around them to sit in the lazy boy.

 

“Well, I want my shed. You know. In peace.” Stan emphasizes in peace. He means it. He kicks his feet up onto the arm of the couch. Head tipped back onto the other. Kenny rolls his eyes at him.

 

“Fine. I’m hungry.” Kenny lets out as he lets go of Craig. It’s weird, because it was almost comforting to be held like that. The warmth radiating off Kenny was like a blanket draped over him.

 

It’ll probably be even better with Thomas.

 

*

 

They stand in line at chipotle. Kenny in front of Craig. He points to the chicken selection, filling his burrito with all the essentials. Craig pulls out his wallet after crafting his own burrito. He pays the pretty lady, she’s a petite young woman who smiles at them both.

 

They take a seat at one of the tables. Kenny automatically takes a bite of of his burrito. The rice clings to his face. Craig stares at it as he takes a bite out of his own. When he puts the food down again. He reaches a hand up. Craig brushes the rice off Kenny’s lip with his thumb.

 

“You. Had something there.” Craig tells Kenny. Kenny blinks at him. He smiles, and then lets out another one of his laughs. Craig finds that he likes Kenny’s laugh. It’s unrepressed. Just pure joy.

 

“Pfft. Thanks mom.” Kenny says. Craig finds it was futile to even try, because Kenny just continues to make a mess. Craig feels almost bad for the people who have to clean up the table once they leave.

 

When Kenny’s finishes, Craig is wrapping up his burrito. He’s never really hungry. It amazes him how Kenny can down food that fast. Usually Craig has leftovers for days.

 

“So. You never told me who this man is.” Kenny says as he crumples up the wrapper for his food. He makes a pile for it. Napkins and wrappers.

 

Craig taps his fingers against the surface of table. He sucks at his upper lip.

 

“Well. He goes to therapy with me.” Craig states. Kenny nods. He leans forward as if this is the most juiciest, important information he’ll receive in his life.

 

“Uhg, don’t look at me like that.” Craig lets out, he cant help the laugh that falls from his lips. Kenny shakes his head, no.

 

“Nope. You’re my best gals brother. First time I’ve seen you interested in anyone in a LONG time. You have to fill me in on the details, have to make sure I don’t have to beat someone up.” Kenny says all of this and takes a sip of his drink. Craig wonders how he can talk so fast, and so sure. Craig has never been good with words himself. Not without them being calculated, thought over for a very long time.

 

“His name’s Thomas...he has tourettes. We text sometimes. He’s cute...im bad at talking, though.” Craig says as he stares down at his burrito. Kenny lets a hmmm at this.

 

“You’re not so bad at talking to me.” He says. Craig looks up at him, his blue eyes on Craig’s hazel ones. He’s right, sort of. Kenny has an almost super power of making people feel comfortable. He’s not cruel, and if he is it’s playful and endearing. He’s kind, listens with rapt attention. There is something else there that Craig can’t pinpoint. Kenny just has this good aura to him. Radiating some weird positivity. Somehow Craig doesn’t think that’s all true, there is some underlying sadness. He’s seen it before after bad nights with Kenny’s mom and dad. How he’d stumble in through Craig’s window to get to Tricia’s. He’d be sniffling, and sometimes would pull Craig into a hug. His nose buried on Craig’s soft, black locks before crossing the hallway to go to Tricia’s room.

 

Everyone’s a little sad.

 

At least Craig thinks this is true.

 

He’s picking at the wrapper of his burrito again, Kenny places his hand on top of Craig’s. It almost reminiscent of when they were kids and would hold hands on school fields trips. Except they are not kids. This is not school related.

 

“You can trust me.” Kenny reassured Craig. Craig’s green eyes flick down to where their hands are stacked. He feels the warmth from Kenny transferring from himself to Craig. Craig’s gaze drifts back up to Kenny’s eyes.

 

“I know.”

 

And although they hardly have talked since they were kids. Although there is no real connecting forces besides sisters...Craig just. He knows.

 


	4. friendships

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter may have some triggering content. I apologize upfront for it...stay safe, friends.

It started with Tweek.

 

“You still talk to your ex boyfriend?” Craig would remember Jason questioning as he’d sit across from him. Jason had Craig’s cell phone in his hands. His gaze firmly fixed on the screen. He’d be typing something into it. Craig watching  him from where he’d be seated at the edge of his bed.

 

“Tweek? I mean. Yeah. But that was when we were kids.” Craig would defend as he anxiously tapped his fingers against the surface of his mattress. Jason threw  him a half smile, and Craig smiled back. Although he feels something isn’t quite right with it. Like the smile wasn’t genuine, something there lying underneath the surface. Saccharine.

 

He tossed Craig’s phone back to him as if it is the most vile object he’s ever touched. Craig turned it it over in his hand and watched as Jason picked up some objects in his room. He’d have a picture of Tricia in his grip.

 

Jason did this a lot. Touch his belongings as if Craig was an object of study. His belongings pieces to a mystery. Craig  would look away, down at his phone to realize he had got a text from Tweek. Though he instantly became confused as the preview for it was just: what??

 

Craig swiped open his phone, opened up his messages. There he reads what Jason sent to Tweek.

 

**Craig (really Jason)**

Sorry, but you’re fucking weird.

I can’t be friends with someone like you.

No offense.

 

Craig remembered being angry. Remembered telling Jason to fucking leave. Jason would remain calm.

 

“You’re overreacting,” he’d say. He’d still have Craig’s picture of Tricia in his hand. Craig would feel his heart stammer as he watched Jason finally put it back down on his nightstand.

 

“You told me yourself Tweek is kind of a weird guy. Why would you want to be friends with someone like that? Besides.” Jason would say easily as he sits next to Craig, he’d slip his hand in Craig’s hoodie pocket, where Craig has his own hand stuffed in there. Balled into a fist. Jason rubs his thumb over each knuckle.

 

“I love you. Why do you need anyone else?”

 

Somehow, it made the anger in Craig sizzle out. He was overreacting. HighSchool is a time of change, right? Who stays friends with people they were with in elementary. Pre school, even? He has Jason now. He loves him.

 

Craig would let Jason kiss him. His cheeks and then his mouth. Craig remembers tasting his own salty tears that day.

 

It was Token, next. Then Jimmy. Craig remembers begging Jason to not text Clyde that he doesn’t want to talk to him. it’s weird because Clyde was the cry baby. People would assume he’d be the one crying. Instead, Craig’s cheeks burn from the salt. Jason has his phone in his hands. The text already sent. Craig reaches for it, only for Jason to put it in his backpack.

 

Jason would sling his arm over Craig’s shoulder. Press a kiss to his hair.

 

“It’s for the best.”

 

Craig would be too numb to respond. Blinking the tears off his dark lashes. They would roll down his cheeks and fall off his chin.

 

As much as he pretended to be cold and apathetic, emotionless towards him. He loved Clyde. When Clyde sent him a hopeful look the next day. Like maybe it was some joke. Craig kept his gaze down at his shoes, withered into himself and hurried to homeroom. Mouth a straight line. Cold.

 

*

 

“We—nhgg! Brought muffins.” Tweek says as he stands in front of Craig at his door. Clyde stands behind him, arms full of a container of muffins.

 

Tweek works at his parents coffee shop now. His mom insists he bring over sweets for Craig every time he stops by the Tucker residence. Craig doesn’t even like sweets. Opts to leave them on the table until they get hard. Hard enough to throw at someone and knock them out.

 

“Come in,” Craig offers, leaving the door open behind him. It’s finally the weekend, Tweek and Clyde had group messaged him demanding to come over. They were kind of an item. Craig doesn’t know how that happened, really. Nor does he care. He sits, pretzel style on the floor. Leaving the couch open for the two of them.

 

They should hate him.

 

Craig feels like this is true, maybe they do. He basically told them to fuck off. However, after the truth came out. After he woke up in the woods, Jason next to him. Blood gathered on his forehead. Passed out, a rock in Craig’s hand. It was Jimmy who Craig pleaded to call the police. Tweek and Token who rushed over to see if he was alright. Clyde who used his hands to try to wipe the smeared dirt off his face. Draped his football letterman over Craig’s frame and cried, cried and cried.

 

There was nothing that had to be explained to them. They got it—they knew. Token went on a rant about how he would kick Jason’s ass. Clyde continued crying. Tweek picked leaves out of Craig’s hair. Jimmy tried his best to help Craig talk to the officer while he stuttered. Craig still remembers her. The officer. She was a kind woman, she reassured Craig he wasn’t in trouble. That Jason would go away for a very long time. She would make sure of it.

 

He’s never seen her again.

 

“So, red racer: space chronicles or red racer: legendary defenders.” Clyde offers as he holds up the two dvds. Tweek has his head on his shoulder. He’s picking at a muffin, his body gentle quivers. Craig hmmm’s. Truly contemplating it. It’s been awhile since he’s really watched either. By awhile he means a few days. Kenny has been consuming his time with dance lessons and food.

 

Lots of food.

 

Craig’s wallet is almost barren. He’s saved up money that his grandma gave him, for certain occasions. Kenny is one hungry guy. Craig can’t complain, because he’s going to be completely prepared to sweep Thomas off his feet.

 

Thomas had texted him the night prior.

 

Have you seen the new live action red racer trailers? Craig responded with: duh.

 

He’s been texting Kenny just a bit more, though. The boy loves to talk. He sends memes and pictures of him, Karen and Tricia from the other room. Craig can hear them, their laughter and chatter mixed in with rap music.

 

He doesn’t dare join them.

 

“Space chronicles.” Craig finally answers. Tweek lets out a frustrated noise and Clyde lets out a sigh.

 

“Oh god, man! You always pick space chronicles!” Tweek hollers. Clyde sinks a little in the couch. Craig knows he agrees though. Craig flips both of them off.

 

“It’s the only one worth watching.” It’s true, Craig deems legendary defenders to be plot holey. Littered with inconsistencies. Space Chronicles is a masterpiece, a head of its time.

 

“Ahhhg! Fine.” Tweek complies, he passes the dvd to Craig and he is smug with it. He leans forward and pops it in. The tv was already on, as he was expecting them. Set to the right settings.

 

They sit back, the title sequence picking up. As soon as Colin James face appears, the front door to Craig’s parents house opens. All heads turn to it, there stands Kenny. He’s kicking off his boots, pulling down the hood of his parka. The Tucker residence is always obnoxiously heated. Kenny unzips his jacket and hangs it on one of the coat hooks by the door.

 

“Where is Tricia?” He questions. Clyde shrugs and Tweek lets  out a groan in response. Craig presses pause on the dvd.

 

“She has a track thing a few counties over,” Craig informs Kenny. He lets out a whistle, Craig is surprised he doesn’t know. Kenny usually goes to all of Tricia’s things.

 

Kenny slips his socks off. Craig remembers Kenny telling him he fucking hates socks. Threw them at Stan who makes a disgusted expression as he plays on his phone. Ass planted on the yellow couch in his shed.

 

“Guess I’m stuck with you losers.” Kenny jokes. Craig flips him off, but let’s him sit next to him on the floor. Their thighs press together slightly. Craig’s exposed as he is in shorts. Kenny’s shielded by a layer of orange fabric.

 

“We’re watching—hng! Red Racer: Space Chronicles, man.” Tweek lets Kenny know as Craig presses the play button. He lets out an ahh at this. Leaning against the couch. Craig sits upright, listening to Colin James’ inner monologue.

 

“I bet you’re wondering how I got here…”

 

They continue on watching the movie. Kenny making commentary every so often. When the blue racer, played by Bradley Morgan dies on screen, Kenny throws the remainder of the muffin Tweek gave to him at the screen.

 

“He can’t die.” Kenny lets out in disbelief. Craig tries to contain his laughter. Clyde has dozed off while Tweek let’s put a noise of distress.

 

“It’s the good part, man!” Tweek says as Kenny wipes off the smeared blueberry that had got on the screen.

 

“After the countless times Red Racer had to save him, he dies now?” Kenny lets out a scoff. Standing and wiping crumbs off his pants. Craig’s eyes follow him as he goes to the dining room to grab a different muffin. Tweek looks at Craig, like, why the hell is he even here? Craig shrugs his shoulders. He can’t answer that. Kenny should be at Tricia’s track meet. He and Kenny really only hung out so Kenny could teach Craig how to dance, and Craig paying him off with food.

 

He does remember Kenny wanting to hang out with him being a condition of their deal, though.

 

Tweek is shaking Clyde’s shoulder to wake him. His brown eyes open and he looks around him, as if he forgot he was at Craig’s.

 

“What’d I miss?” Clyde mumbles as he wipes the sleep from his eyes. Tweek lets out a noise.

 

“Nghh—we have to meet my parents for dinner man!” He reminds Clyde. Clyde’s eyes go big, and he stands.

 

“Shit you’re right.” He says. His eyes drift to the window and he sees how dark it is.

 

They slip their coats on and head out the door. Clyde wrapping Craig into a bear hug. Kenny watches from the kitchen. He’s sitting on the counter, picking at a muffin.

 

“I’ll text you.” Clyde says in his nasal voice. The door is shut behind them. Craig stands in the dim lighting, then turns towards the kitchen where Kenny is. He’s finished off his muffin. The wrapper discarded on the counter next to him. Craig sits on the other side of the sink. There again is a space between them. There always seems to be. Sisters or backpacks. In this case, it’s the sink.

  


“Do you want to get out of here?” Kenny asks. Craig’s legs just barely reach the floor. He can feel the hardwood of it beneath his toes.

 

“Where?” He replies to his question with another question. Kenny hums and looks over at him, as if he couldn’t wait for him to ask.

 

*

 

They stop at Burger King first. Kenny orders a whopper while Craig just wants a soda. He hands Kenny the crumpled dollar bills. They pay for their food and they’re on the highway. Craig doesn’t know where Kenny is taking him. It should make him nervous, but it doesn’t. It’s a Sunday night. The air crisp and cold  in November, even outside of South Park. Craig pokes his hand out of Kenny’s window. Feels the wind rush between his fingertips.

 

The album he selected this time was titled worst band name ever. By a band with a difficult name to remember unless you invested a lot of time into video games. Up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right, B, A. It’s a mouthful and Craig doesn’t attempt to say it out loud. As soon as the first song picks up, Kenny recognizes it.

 

_We’ll talk about boys, with their gas station hair…_

 

“Another great selection.” Kenny praises. He turns it up and they are just another car of many on the highway. Blasting music late on a Sunday night. However, Craig feels his existence and can’t help but feel something significant about being here with Kenny.

 

They drive for a good hour, alternating CDs. Soon Kenny makes to turn and Craig can see the towering buildings. High skyscrapers with windows that are dimmed or alight. Craig always found Denver to be beautiful. He doesn’t come here often, but when he does he remembers there is more to life than South Park. That there are over 7 billion people scattered amongst the cities and small mountain towns and desserts. They all are something, even while being nothing.

 

They go through green light after green light until finally, Kenny turns into a parking lot of what looks like to be a garden. He puts his car in Park. He nods his head to the outside, and Craig pulls at the handle of the truck. He hops down to the pavement. There is no snow in Denver. It’s a weird contrast from South Park which is always snow coated. Except in July.

 

“I thought we could practice here,” Kenny suggests. He tampers with the radio, slipping a CD in. Craig recognizes it as Frank Sinatra’s ‘Fly Me To The Moon’. He steps down from the truck, leaving the doors open. Kenny offers his hand to Craig. Who can’t help but smile and he takes it. Being pulled close to Kenny’s frame.

 

He instantly lets himself bury his face into the crook of Kenny’s neck as they sway to the music. Kenny gripping onto Craig’s hips, Craig resting a hand on Kenny’s chest, the other on his shoulder.

 

He can feel his heart flutter. His cheeks redden. Kenny’s fingers tickle him again, and he looks up through black lashes at Kenny, who looks down at him. He lifts a hand up to push black locks away from Craig’s face. They had fallen into his eyes.

 

Craig’s tongue darts out to wet his lip. He’s about to open his mouth, ask Kenny where he found this place. The towering trees and greenery surrounded by city buildings and lights. Before he can question it, Kenny has his mouth on his.

  
  



	5. kissing Kenny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took longer! I’ve been trying to update daily, but I struggled with this chapter! I hope it’s alright and you guys like it!

Kissing Kenny is different from kissing Tweek. Different from Jason.

 

Tweek was always soft little pecks. Nothing extreme, they were kids. Their relationship never made it past their elementary school days.

 

Jason on the other hand, quickly went from innocent to forceful. Their first kiss was behind the bleachers at school. Craig leaned in, pressed a kiss to the side of Jason’s mouth.

 

“Is that all you got?” Jason would grin at him before sweeping in to press his lips to Craig’s.

 

Craig was a bit taken aback by how fast that progressed. He remembers liking it, at the time. He remembers not liking it a few weeks later.

 

“Why does your family insist on having dinner together?” Jason would ask. He’s touching the picture of Tricia again. His brown eyes taking in the school portrait. Craig sits on his bed, cross cross apple sauce. Watching Jason as he moves towards Stripes. He still has Tricia’s picture in his hand.

 

Craig’s family always had dinner together for as long as Craig could remember. It was the only real family time they had. It was quiet, really. They were never really a vocal family. The type to discuss and gossip at the table.

 

“I don’t know. It’s just a thing.” Craig explains. Jason would sit next to him. Craig can see the outline of his phone in Jason’s pocket. He insists on keeping it for Craig. Craig wishes he’d give it back.

 

For what, though? His old friends think he doesn’t want to talk to them. He doesn’t. He tells himself this. As his green eyes fall on Jason’s hand, he dares to think that it’s Jason who doesn’t want him to talk to them.

 

Craig tries to snub the thought out, afraid Jason will hear.

  


“Well it’s weird.” Jason starts, Craig knows he’s going into this rant again. He doesn’t want to hear it. Jason complains about how Craig doesn’t message him enough on Facebook while he’s watching red racer, doing homework, playing with stripe, watching movies with Tricia. Or even just eating dinner with his family.

 

“Can’t you just take your dinner upstairs? I don’t see why you still have to eat with your family...you’re 14.” Jason complains. Craig lets out a sigh, and Jason’s eyes are on him.

 

“What?” Jason asks, voice laced in venom. Craig looks up to him and he can feel his heart pound in his ears. Here we go again.

 

Jason goes on and on about how he doesn’t have to waste time on Craig, how Craig should be grateful. How he needs to take advantage of his free time to talk to him.

 

“Who cares about your family? I’ll fucking murder your sister, or mom or dad if they come between us.” He’d finish off. It’s the first time Jason has threatened Craig or his family and he can feel the fear building up inside of him. Craig remains silent, watching the tight grip Jason has on his picture of Tricia.

 

Jason can see the fear written on Craig’s face when he finally looks over.

 

“Hey, hey no. I was joking. Just. Come here.” Jason would try to console. He’d lean down and kiss Craig. Craig remembers not liking it.

 

Craig still remembers their last kiss, too. The dark forest. The feeling of snow melting under him. Jason's fist plowing into his face, the dirt smeared on his cheeks. The blood on Jason’s knuckles. The smell of cologne, some really cheap stuff. The moon peeking out from behind branches. The frigid wind licking at Craig’s exposed flesh. Jason on top of him, Craig squirming, trying to escape where he was underneath him. When Jason stopped hitting him, he would lean down and kiss him.

 

Craig would squeeze his eyes shut. Feeling around for his pocket knife that Jason had threw when Craig tried to pull it on him. It’s to no avail, although eventually he feels the smooth surface of rock on his fingertips.

 

Craig remembers feeling his lips as he watched Jason be taken away on a stretcher. Clyde’s jacket draped over his thin frame. Jimmy holding his hand from where he sat on the snow covered ground. His lips were swollen, bruised and chapped. It stung underneath his touch.

 

For countless months Craig remembers waking up, drenched in sweat. He’d be swinging his arms, screaming for dream-Jason to get off.

 

*

 

When Kenny pulls away, Craig’s usually low hanging eyelids open, and they are wide. It was a peck on the lips, nothing forceful. Craig could have easily pushed him away if he wanted to.

 

He hasn’t been kissed since the incident. Craig has talked about it with his therapist on quite a few occasions. She would always reassure him that when he was ready to kiss other people again, he’d know. It didn’t have to be that day or month or year. When he was ready.

 

Craig remembers the dreams. Remembers branches and snow and a snake on top of him. Kissing him, injecting him with venom. Poisoning. Craig died that night. He swears on it. Was poisoned and being barely kept to life with vistiral and his therapist.

 

When Craig told her this she didn’t look sad or pitying, she told him he was still alive. He was still breathing. Craig remembers doing an exercise with her where he had to imagine talking to this version of himself he perceived in the chair next to him. It was almost real. Craig remembers seeing a frightened version of him. Clothes torn with bruises and scrapes. Leaves and dirt smeared over him.

  


“What do you think of him?” Candace would ask him. The imaginary Craig’s eyes would be downcast, folded into himself. Real Craig would feel a desperation to shake him out of it.

 

“I think he’s pathetic.” He’d reply, honest.

 

“I think he needs to run and get far away from j—the snake.” Craig feels a little more empowered by being able to say all of this. His fingers curl into the edge of the couch he’s seated on.

 

“I think he needs to go get help.”

 

“I think he needs to find Clyde and apologize.”

 

“I think I love him.” It comes out on reflex. Candace looks at him, she clicks her pen shut. She was writing notes down, listening with rapt attention. She stops abruptly at that.

 

“Why’s that, Craig?” Candace pries. Craig looks at the frightened version of himself and bites at his lip.

 

“Because he’s me.” Craig starts. He watches as the other him looks up at him through black lashes. Hazel eyes full of anguish.

 

“He’s just not...alive here, right now.” He grabs at where his heart would be. The phantom version of himself fades away.

 

Craig hasn’t had a nightmare in a long time.

  


When Craig first realized he liked Thomas, he realized he wanted to kiss him.

 

He thought about it. How it’d play out. Would Thomas’ lips be smooth? Would he be soft underneath his touch?

 

He could have pushed Kenny away.

 

He doesn’t think he wanted to. He kissed back. Letting his lips move against Kenny’s. Them slowly backing up to the truck where Kenny would press Craig against the surface. Craig’s eyes would close and he’d feel his heart flutter. Craig doesn’t know why he kissed right back. Why it doesn’t bother him. Why he actually liked it.

  


Kenny is staring at him, his blue eyes on Craig’s hazel.

 

“You kissed me.” Craig lets out in his usual nasal. Kenny lets the hands that were gripped onto Craig’s sides fall.

 

“I’m sorry.” Kenny starts, he has this look on his face. Eyelids low, lips parted ever so slightly. It’s like he wants to do it again, not sorry. Kenny steps out of Craig’s bubble. And Craig looks down. He folds his arms, into himself.

 

“I should have asked. I just. I wa—“

 

“Practice.” Craig interrupts Kenny. He gulps, trying to push down the feeling of desire to kiss Kenny in his chest. If he’s going to kiss Thomas the night of the dance, sweep him off his feet. He needs to practice. That’s probably why Kenny did it, right? There is no way he’d actually be interested him. This was nothing more than a favor.

 

“What?” Kenny questions, brows furrowed. His expression is one of confusion. Craig rests a hand on the back of his own neck. Fingers curling into his black waves.

 

“That’s what it will be like, right? So. It’s uh. Practice?” Craig asks, Kenny look to the side. Lets out a laugh, though Craig can tell it’s not one of pleasure. It’s awkward and painful.

 

“Yeah.” Kenny chokes out. Craig doesn’t look up at him. He almost feels like he wants to melt into the ground. He’s the one who said it, but Kenny confirmed it.

 

“Practice.” Kenny states.

 

It’s an awkward pocket of silence that falls. Them standing in the parking lot in Denver. The distant sound of cars and city life while they are surrounded by greenery and wilted flowers.

 

Craig does looks up at Kenny. His tongue darts out to wet his lips.

 

“Can we do it again?” Craig inquires. Kenny’s blue eyes drift up to him.

Craig is reminded of frozen waves. Icy. blue, as if it was crawling upwards, but don’t crash down. They stay on Craig’s green eyes. Frozen.

 

“Yes.” Kenny answers him. He advances towards him, closing the distance between them.

 

“So, I’m going to kiss you n—“ Craig is the one that kisses him. Fingers curling into Kenny’s jacket, pulling him closer, closing the distance. His eyelids flutter shut, letting himself sink into the kiss. Kenny’s mouth moving against his.

*

 

Craig falls asleep on the way home. When they are in front of the Tucker residence, Kenny gingerly grips his shoulder, shaking it. Craig’s face is pressed into the smooth glass of the trucks window.

 

The sound of graduating life, the band they listened to the first night they were to practice slow dancing is playing low on the radio. Craig takes in his surroundings, Kenny’s face close to his.

 

Kenny presses a kiss to Craig’s mouth before he exits the vehicle. Craig walks through snow, flattening it’s fluffy, powder white beneath his boots. When he gets to the door he looks back, waving at Kenny. Kenny waves at him before turning his key in its ignition and driving off.

 

*

 

Group therapy is every Monday. Laura picks Craig up from school on these days. Today he climbs into the passenger seat of her minivan. The heat inside is a contrast from the frigid cold outside. He puts his hands in front of the heat vent, feeling the warmth rush between his fingertips.

 

The ride is a bit of a long one. They drive out of South Park and through North Park. To the outskirts of said town. The office is in a small little building hidden in the trees. It’s hard to miss, except there is a huge sigh, an arrow pointing to the driveway of the building.

 

Craig steps into the office, finding his eyes landing on Thomas almost instantly. He’s reading one of the pamphlets on one of the upcoming medications. Craig sits next to him, looking over his shoulder at what he’s reading.

 

“Lo Le Lestrin fe?” Craig asks. His voice dry and nasal. Thomas lets out a “SHITBALLS!” And a laugh. He places it back on the table.

 

“We’re talking about—COCKSUCKER! safe sex today.” Thomas tells him. Craig lets out a groan. He knows it’s necessary, they do a safe sex group every once in a blue moon. Craig hates this group though. Not everyone in group therapy is there for trauma related problems. Which is fine, but Craig often sinks into his chair when people share their sexual life. It’s not so much triggering than it is uncomfortable for him. He has never had sex. Jason has never crossed that line. He and Tweek were too young.

 

He feels inexperienced, if anything.

 

“Hey guys!” It’s Susan who says it as she sits next to Craig. Too close for comfort. Craig tries to inch away from her, only to get closer to Thomas. Their arms touch, hands dangerously close.

 

Craig still has the affirmations project in his room. It’s under his pillow. He hasn’t looked at it since he and Kenny started practicing. It’s weird because he hasn’t really thought of Thomas too much. He was doing this thing—with Kenny for Thomas. However, he was more focused and enamored by Kenny.

 

He couldn’t let himself be, though. That’s the thing. Craig has taken so much from Tricia.

 

He couldn’t take her best friend.

 

“SHIT—hey, Susan.” Thomas greets her. As he says this Ms. Candace pokes her head out of the door leading to the offices of the practice. She ushers everyone back. There are about 10 people in total in group. Though Craig seldom talks to any of them outside of the function.

 

The group starts as a usual. People saying their names and how there week was. A coping skill they used. When it gets to Craig he says his name, and he pauses. Trying to think of the right way to word this. He’s thought it over, quite a bit.

 

“I went to the lacrosse field this week. To. Well, my sisters friend is helping me with something. I met him there.” He starts, all eyes are on him. Thomas watching, Ms. Candace patiently waiting for him to continue. They know about his anxieties about sporting events and being around his high schools sports fields.

 

“I grounded myself. I tried to like...identify different things. I thought that would trigger me more but…” he pauses, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

 

“I was okay.” Craig finishes. A few people in group congratulate him. He smiles a bit at that, especially when Thomas rests a hand on his shoulder. Squeezing.

 

They continue on. Then get into the meat of group. Ms. Candace talks about the importance of safe sex, using condoms or birth control. She then goes into consensual sex, though it’s brief. Craig knows it’s necessary. Apparently someone higher up enforces these groups. She told them she wanted everyone to feel comfortable enough to step out if they need to before hand.

 

A few people share. Craig kind of tunes it out. Kenny is texting him and Craig is typing underneath the table. Everyone in group has done this at some point. He’s not the only one right now, he knows it.

 

**Kenny**

Is it like the movies? Do you have to like, say “hello my name is ___ and I’m x amount of years sober”

 

**Craig**

That’s for AA, asshole. I’m not even an addict.

 

Craig is smiling, his lower lip between two rows of metal as he does this. He stuffs his phone back in his pocket. Listening for the rest of the session. When group finishes he’s expecting to wait for his mom. Thomas is talking to him about something or another.

 

Craig pushes open the door to the waiting room and there is Kenny. He’s looking through the pamphlet Thomas was. His eyes taking in the information on birth control. Craig’s eyes are glued on him, and Thomas nudges him slightly.

 

“COCK! are you listening, Craig?” Thoma questions. At this, Kenny looks up at them. Hearing Craig’s name mentioned. His blue eyes land on at him. He beams at Craig.

 

“Your mom wanted me to pick you up.”

 


	6. family dynamics

Lets talk about siblings.

 

Kenny has Karen and Kevin. Craig can’t speak on Kenny’s relationship with Kevin, really. He briefly remembers being kids and Kevin pedaling over on a rusty old bike when he and Craig would hang out to pick Kenny up. His hair would have snowflakes in its dirty mess. Melting into it as he’d step through the front door of the Tucker residence.

 

Craig could tell Kevin loves Kenny. He knows he’s not in town anymore. Ran off with Shelly Marsh. Everyone in town knew that.

 

Everyone also knew Karen and Kenny’s dynamic. Karen’s fierce protector. A warrior who’d stick by her side, fight her demons. Whether they were at home or on the playground. No one at school really fucked with her after a certain point. Craig knows that’s not the case at home.

 

The McCormick’s were notoriously known to be abusive parents. 

 

The three kids had been taken away before, but they always found a way back and stuck like glue. Wet Elmer’s glue that you could rip apart with a bit of force.

 

Craig’s own family was a strange one. They had trouble communicating. There was always a quiet that fell on the household. They all flicked each other off when they were especially annoyed. A habit picked up from Thomas. Thomas and Laura used to be best friends. Thomas always enamored by her. She always belonging to someone else.

 

Craig never met his biological father. 

 

They never treated him any different because of it. Tricia or Thomas. Thomas loved Craig with a fierceness that only a father could. It was subtle, washed down with the touch of a masculinity. The stereotypic idea that men had to repress their emotions. 

 

Tricia loved Craig too

 

She was angry at him, though.

 

Craig can recall the night after the incident. How she came into his bedroom late at night and crawled under the covers with him. She’d wrap her arms around his middle and Craig would weep into her.

 

He didn’t sleep that night. Or the night after. When he did get to sleep, he woke up screaming. His parents rushed to his aid. They often did after that. Ruby would stand by in the hallway. Unsure of what to do. Thomas would be in the doorway. Laura would be the one in the battle field. Shushing Craig. 

 

“We need to take him to a doctor! Thomas!” She would sharply whisper in the dark hallways. Craig and Tricia could still hear it in the confines of their bedroom. Craig would blankly be staring into the the dark. He would hear it but not really. This isn’t real. He isn’t real. This world isn’t real.

 

“He’s fine, he’ll get over this.”

 

He didn’t get over it. He’d sit at the dinner table with glazed over eyes. Voice stuck as his mom would ask him if he’s alright. Who is he? What is he? What is that voice?

 

One dinner when he’d sit in front of his food. Finger curled around his fork, picking it up. Putting it back down. Pick up. Down. His hands were stiff and heavy. These actions were slow motion. Thomas would let out a loud, frustrated noise.

 

He’d walk around the table to where Craig would be and pull him into the tightest hug Craig has ever received from him. Tears would damp Craig’s hair. 

 

“We need to take him to a doctor”

 

That night, Tricia would sneak into his room again. Shed stand there in the dark. Clad in pajamas, streetlights filtering in through blinds. She’d be gentle quivers. Her arms folded.

 

“They don’t even notice me anymore.” She’d say. Sniffling through it as she’d talk. Craig’s gaze was passed her. He was stiff, frozen. But he could hear her. It was registering, even if it didn’t make sense at the time.

 

“I hate what happened to you. I hate it because I lost my brother, he took you away from me! But I lost my mom and dad too.” She’s crying now. Craig remembers trying to speak. It came out as barely audible whispers. His gaze was still passed Tricia. She would wipe her face with her hands and let out an Uhg! Before turning around and slamming Craig’s door shut behind her.

 

*

 

Craig keeps a straight expression as he walks over to Kenny. He can feel Thomas’ eyes on them, curious. 

 

“Come on.” He says, motioning to the door. He takes the lead, closing the distance. Craig pushes open the glass door to the building, stepping out into the wind licking his face.

Kenny catches up and they go to his truck. There are wet leaves beneath their feet. Fallen from the trees surrounding them. They are dead, but will decompose and bring life. 

 

“We need to talk,” Craig starts. He bites at his lip. They’re raw, he’s always biting them. Kenny is climbing into his truck. Craig follows suit, closing the door. 

 

He’s sitting up front. A fact that should be rare but has been becoming increasingly common. He sat in the back that morning when Kenny took Tricia, Karen and himself to school. Craig noticed the quiet that was upon them. How Tricia tampered with the radio but set it low. The three of them, Tricia, Karen and Kenny were not laughing like they usually were.

 

Craig couldn’t fathom why at the time. He knows why now.

 

It was because of him.

 

“So what do you want to talk about?” Kenny questions as he twists the key in its ignition. Craig looks straight ahead at the wooded area they are in. He feels almost afraid, his heart beat picks up. There are tall trees. If he looks up he can see branches. It’s bitter cold. He takes in a heaving breath. Hand resting on the dashboard.

 

Reflection in car mirror, Kenny’s orange parka, beaten down fabric, smooth surface of the dashboard…

 

“We can’t. We can’t do this thing anymore.” He breathes out. Kenny puts his car in park. He’s frozen, and Craig is scared he’ll turn into a snake. Wrap him himself...his hands...around his neck. 

 

“What?” It doesn’t sound angry but confused. Craig is having problems breathing. His hand flies to his neck.

 

“I can’t...take you away from Tricia. I can’t do that to her again. I can’t do that to her again. I can’t do that to her again. I can’t...do...that…” he repeats it over and over like a broken record. Kenny turns his car off and unbuckles his seat belt. He automatically goes to reach out and touch Craig but stops. Realizing that’s not a good idea.

 

“Craig, no. Stop. It’s okay...Tricia loves you. She won’t think you’re...stealing me  from her...please…” Kenny tries to console him. But Craig just continues repeating himself. He shakily grabs at the door handle, stumbling down from Kenny’s truck. He runs.

 

He runs and runs and runs. Feet slapping against the wet pavement. He runs into the woods behind his therapist office. Runs away from Kenny. Away from the situation. At having to deal with it. When he stops he rests against a tree. His face pressed into it as he slides down. Knees digging into wet leaves. 

 

It smells like dirt. Smells like forest. Craig grips at his dark hair. Tears are rolling down his cheeks and off his chin. He digs his hands into the soil. Digs and digs until his fingers hurt. He feels like there is something buried. Maybe he died. Maybe his therapist and parents and Tricia buried him here. Maybe he’ll find the evidence. Maybe he’ll find his corpse. He digs and digs and digs.

 

“COCKBALLS! Craig?” Craig continues digging as Thomas levels with him. He’s on his knees too. They’re bare, he’s wearing shorts. Dirt smeared on his flesh. Craig chokes at that. At the dirt on his hands.

 

“I’m going to fucking die! I’m fucking dead!” He screams out, rubbing the dirt down his cheeks. He’s digging his nails into the flesh of his face. Thomas shushes him.

 

“You’re not —SHIT! Dead. You’re alive. Deep breaths.  What’s my—COCKSUCKER! name, Craig? Can you tell me that?” Thomas questions. Craig is breathing shallow. Choppy, uneven breaths. He tries to take a deep one. It’s hard. He’s still scratching at his face.

 

“T-Thomas. Thomas. You’r names...Thomas.” He keeps trying to breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth. His hands have come to a halt. He breathes.

 

“COCK! TITTYFUCK! Good, good. Keep breathing. Do you remember what I said I liked about you last week? Can you—FUCK! tell me that?” It’s a distraction and Craig takes it. He gulps, his arms drop to his side. Breathe. Breathe.

 

“How can I forget.” Craig says, he feels his eyes water a bit. He’s looking down at his dirty hands. He sniffles.

 

“You told me that you like that I listen,” Craig lets out. He looks at Thomas, finally. At his hazel eyes. Thomas smiles softly at him. Gentle.

 

“I—COCKSUCKER! Did.” He says as he reaches for Craig’s hand. He helps him up, picks a leaf out of his hair.

 

“My moms taking you—SHIT! home. I’d like to listen to you, now.”

  
  


*

 

Thomas’ mom is a kind woman. She smells like peppermint. Everytime C raig has met her, she does.

 

She takes one look at Craig and tsks before telling him:

 

“We can’t let you go home like that now can we?” Insisting Craig come over to clean up and stay for dinner. He still has dirt smeared on his cheeks and on his clothes. Craig’s gaze is on Kenny’s truck, still parked in the parking lot of the building. He doesn’t see Kenny, though.

 

“No. I guess not.” Craig finally replies. Pulling the seat belt over his frame. He numbly looks ahead. His fingers are sore. Red and dirty. So is his face. 

 

Craig feels Thomas rest his own hand on top of Craig’s. 

 

On any other occasion Craig would be happy about this. Heart skipping beats. His crush giving him attention. Instead he feels sick. Craig doesn’t move his hand though. It is comforting.

  
  


They drive the distance to Thomas’ house. It’s quiet, just Thomas’ mom humming along to the radio. It’s not uncomfortable.When they pull up to Thomas’ family house, Craig looks out of the window at it.

 

It’s like any other house. Tall and proud. It has age to it, though. Chipped painting, gutters sagging just a bit. 

 

Thomas still holds his hand as they cross the distance to his front door. When they get there he lets out a few swears before letting go. Motioning for Craig to go in before him.

 

“SHIT! FUCK! Sorry about the mess.” He apologizes. There are shoes scattered everywhere. Dog toys littered here and there. As soon as he thinks it she comes hopping over to him. Fur thick and mixed in browns and whites. Her tail wags at him. And Andrea, Thomas’ dog, hops up to sniff at Craig.

 

“Hey, FUCK! no Andy. SHITTING—Stop that.” She’s used to Thomas’ swearing. Andrea stops anyways, going to the pile of blankets to take a nap. She nestles into them.

 

“Come on, lets get—FUCKING! SHITTY COCKSUCKER! you cleaned up.” Thomas says as he lead the way to his room. Craig remembers where it is, second floor, first door to the left. Thomas has his own bathroom, and he digs through his clothes until he pulls out a gray, plaid button down. He passes that to Craig along with some sweatpants.

 

“I like plaid a —COCKSUCKER lot.” He admits. Craig bites at his lip, he knows. 

 

Craig closes the bathroom door and flicks on the light. Thomas has one of those huge mirrors. And Craig finally takes himself in when he undressed, stripping down to nothing.

 

He’s bones with skin pulled over it. 

 

That’s the first thing that crosses his mind before he gets in the shower.

 

*

They eat dinner on the back deck in Thomas’ house. It’s a small little screened in porch. Craig pushes the pork chop around. Tries to eat some peas and carrots. He’s just not hungry though.

 

Instead he puts it down.

 

“Did you—FUCK! want to talk, now?” Thomas questions. Craig looks at his chest. The plaid button down. It’s green, today. The pattern. Greens and oranges and creams.

 

“I, Uh.” Craig tries to start. He reaches a hand up to push some of her hair out of his face.

 

“I don’t know what happened.” He gulps as he says it. He doesn’t. He’s had his panic attacks under control. But that? Was bad. He feels embarrassed. Kenny texted him as he was showering. Nothing mean or hurtful.

 

_ Are you okay? I looked for you.  _

 

He had sent him this and Craig stepped out of the consistent stream of water and read it. He ignored the text. Slipped on Thomas’ clothes. They were big on him. It looked like Craig was drowning in plaid.

 

“I like someone.” He tries to start. It’s not a lie. He likes Kenny. Maybe a part of him always has and he repressed it. 

 

“The—BALLS! Guy that was going to pick you up?” Thomas pries. Craig is looking down at Thomas’ chest still. 

 

“Yeah.” He replies. 

 

“We had a deal.” Craig says this. He rests his hand on the back of his neck. Rubbing at it.

 

“He’d help me...get someone I liked at the time, if I’d agree to hang out with him.” Craig continues on. He looks at Thomas’ face now. Trying to avoid revealing it was him that he has...had a crush on.

 

“O—shit! K.” Thomas says this, wanting Craig to continue on. Craig licks his lips.

 

“He kissed me. I liked it...I like it a lot...but he’s my sisters best friend and I.” Craig pauses there. He’s brought back to the night Tricia told him he stole their parents from her. He chokes just a bit.

 

“I stole so much from her when I...in the aftermath of my abuse. I got all the attention...she got none. And I. I can’t take her best friend from her.” He finishes. Thomas lets out a whistle at that. Moving closer to Craig. He pulls him into a hug.

 

He strokes down Craig’s black locks. Gentle quivers, barely noticeable by eye. However, Craig can feel it against him. He closes his eyes.

 

“I’m sure your—FUCKING! ASS FUCK! sister won’t be angry for you liking her best—FUCK! friend, Craig. I’m sure she’d be happy. Even. That you—SHITTING! Happy.” Thomas pulls away. Taking Craig’s hand in his. He smiles his soft smile, and Craig smiles back.

 

He doesn’t believe that, though.

  
  



	7. the walls and their secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This isn’t the greatest chapter but it’s starting to wrap things up. I think the next chapter will be the end...I hope you guys enjoyed this. 
> 
> I might have the last chapter up tomorrow or today. I don’t know yet. Bless you all!

When Thomas and his mom drop Craig off he stands there, waving goodbye as snow gathers on him. He watches as their car disappears as they take a turn off his street. His gaze instead falls on the houses on his road.

 

They’re just houses.

 

Craig could probably say which one belongs to who. The one across from him is the Stoley’s. Esther and Kevin are like complete opposites. He’s seen Kevin’s room in contrast to Esther’s. Star Wars and Star Trek merchandise while Esther is flowers and Kpop stars and lots of baby blue and pink.

 

That’s just one example. Craig’s stare darts to the multiple residences on his block. He takes in a quivering breath before turning around to go back into his parents house.

 

*

 

It was late into their relationship when Craig would visit Jason’s place for the first time. They’d be in his bed, Jason’s dog in Craig’s lap. She gravitates towards him. Instantly enamored by him when he bends down to offer his hand for her to sniff.

 

Craig’s gaze would be on the ceiling. Purple. It was Jason’s favorite color. His whole room was painted a deep shade of it. It was mostly bare besides that. Jason was almost a stranger now. It’s like he wanted it that way. There was nothing tell tale that his room revealed. No secrets that the surface told in the form of pictures or art. Drawing or marks. Posters or books.

 

They were deeply embedded in the walls. Craig remembers pleading with the ceiling to tell him what it knew.

 

“Are you listening?” Jason would ask. Craig would turn his head to him. Hazel eyes devoid of anything. They’ve been empty for weeks. He’s blank, quiet.

 

Jason didn’t like this. He’d complain how Craig needs to listen to him. Who does he think he is to ignore what Jason feels and says? Smile more often. Talk more, you don’t know what the guys on the basketball team say about you. They think you’re mute.

 

Craig’s eyes drag away from Jason as he talks. Up to the ceiling again. Trying to listen to it’s soft, barely audible whisper. Trying to vouch for his boyfriend. Trying to tell Craig he’s not that bad.

 

“Look. At. Me.” Jason would say as he’d drag Craig up from where he’s laying down. He’d grab his chin, yank his face to stare into Jason’s own.

  


“You’re a fucking idiot. I’m talking to you. Look at me.” Craig couldn’t. He’s afraid of Jason staring into his eyes and knowing his thoughts. How he wants to leave him. How he’s sick of this.

 

His heart pounds, thump, thump, thump. He can feel the tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. His hands balled into fist. Jason has his hand curled around Craig’s wrist. Tight. Tight enough to leave marks.

 

“I can’t do this anymore!” Craig would finally unmute himself. Jason’s dogs ears would perk up at this. Craig is crying. He’s trying to break through Jason’s grip.

 

“Let me go. Please let me go!” Craig would scream. He’s hysterical, trying to break the hold Jason has on his arms. He’s yelling at the top of his lungs, screaming louder than the walls whispers. Louder than his thoughts.

 

Jason’s hand coming down across his face is what silences him. Craig has his head turned from the impact of Jason hitting him. His hand reaches up to his cheek, where it stings under his touch. The dog is barking at Jason. She’s bouncing up, trying to bite at him. Jason fends her off. Shutting her out of the room.

 

“You’re not leaving me, Craig Tucker.” He tells Craig. Jason sits next to him, and he reaches his fingertips out to where a bruise in forming on Craig’s cheek.

 

“If anyone asks you did it to yourself. They’ll believe it, you’re stupid enough.”

 

When Craig goes home that night and he sits at the dinner table his family stares at him. He keeps his eyes downcast. They don’t ask.

 

When he passes Token in the hallway his chocolate eyes land on Craig. His lips part, and he stops him. Hand resting on Craig’s shoulder. Craig tenses under the touch. What does Token want? Craig told him to fuck off weeks ago.

 

“Craig...what. What happened?” He’d questions. Craig teeth goes down at his lips. They’re raw from him biting at them so much. He doesn’t say anything. He can’t. He’s an idiot. He’ll never talk

again. He shrugs Token off and dashes off to his homeroom.

 

Only the walls of Jason’s house, Jason’s dog, Jason himself and Craig would know what happened. It was a secret that the walls kept their mouth shut about.

 

*

 

Craig kicks off his shoes. Lazily climbs up

the stairs to his room. He closes the door behind him. Crosses the distance to his mirror

 

Craig’s fingertips touch the smooth surface. His reflection stares back with sleepy hazel eyes. He has scrapes on his face from where he was scratching at himself with dirty fingers. His lips chapped and sore from him biting at them so much.

 

There is only one thing he can think to do, he turns the mirror around so his reflection is facing the wall. So he can’t see it.

 

Craig crosses the distance to his bed and pulls the covers over himself. Flicking the light switch off on the way. He sits up in bed, looking at Kenny’s text in his phone. Finally, he responds.

 

**Craig**

Please don’t talk to me anymore.

I’ll walk to school from now on.

 

Craig then shuts his phone off.

 

*

 

The walk to school takes 30 minutes, total. Craig leaves an hour earlier. Braving the dimly lit streets and bitter cold. He pulls his blue jacket tighter around his frame.

 

He passes house after house, it’s when he stops a block before his school that he feels the weight of it. There is one building in particular, a cream colored house. Small, built like all the others in South Park. Craig stops in front of it. His hazel eyes take it in.

 

It’s Jason’s old house.

 

Craig feels the wind lickat his face. He feels chills down his spine, but less because of the frigid weather. It’s as if this house is a ghost. As if it has eyes and ears and hears all his thoughts and know everything he’s ever done. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and he blinks one final time before turning away from it. Walking the rest of the path to school.

 

*

 

“Okay, so I was thinking of this spread for the yearbook.” Token chats Craig up as they sit together in the art room. He displays the sports photos he had taken the week prior. Craig looks them over.

 

“This shot is weird.” Craig says, pointing to one in particular. It unintentionally has a flashing of a cheerleaders panties. Pink with hearts on it. Token looks over his shoulder at it before letting out a gasp.

 

“Oh. Shit. Oops.” He lets out a sigh and scoops it up in his hands. He rips it to shreds and dumps the remains in the garbage.

 

There was no way Token would let something like that fly if he was conscious of it. Craig fully believes he didn’t know. He chuckles a bit.

 

“W-w-well fellas. I just want to say, I think m-m-my addition to the yearbook t-this year is fantastic.” Jimmy pipes in. He’s in charge of writing all the sappy shit for the yearbook. The typography and and designs. He also is in the newspaper club.

 

“Me too.” Craig says in his dry nasal. He looks over the sample spread they made.

 

It’s a great distraction from the drama going on in his life. He hopes that it’s over, that Kenny takes the hint. That he’ll leave Craig alone and continue being Tricia’s. All Tricia’s.

 

He doesn’t hang out with Token or Jimmy much outside of school. There was still a closeness between them, though. One that would probably never go away. They’ve seen and been through too much. If their only communication was yearbook club, Craig would take it.

 

“Okay, well we should wrap it up for the day, guys.” Token announces. The three of them and the rest of the club begin to pack up. Craig is prepared to walk a different route home. As long as it means he doesn’t have to walk passed Jason’s. He’d drive passed it on Kenny’s truck everyday. There was a safety in that, though.

 

He’s shoving his arms through the loops of his backpack. Leaving the art room when he sees him. Kenny is across the hall, leaning against a locker. His foot taps against the surface of the ground. He’s waiting for Craig could only assume—him.

 

He ducks his head and walks passed as swiftly as he can. Kenny says his name, calling out to him. He ignores this. Kenny doesn’t chase after him. Craig can feel his blue eyes on the back of him, though.

 

They play this for days. Kenny’s eyes on Craig, Craig dodging him. He avoids sitting in the back of the school with Kenny. Avoids eye contact. Avoids him at his house. Avoids.

 

It’s not the way Craig wants it. He feels desire in the pit of his stomach that he’s never felt before. Not for Tweek, not for Jason, not for Thomas. No one.

 

He represses it. Pushing it down. Snuffs out the fire licking at his tummy. Though it flares up again if he’s not careful. If he doesn’t continuously stomp his foot on it.

 

He does this until the stupid dance he is to go to is around the corner. Two more days.

 

Craig looks at his texts in the confines of his bedroom. Looks at the video Thomas sent him. The funny pictures of Andrea at a wide angle. Thomas knows he’s a sucker for animals close up, with a wide angle lens.

 

He doesn’t know that used to be his and Kenny’s thing.

 

Craigs texts from Kenny are barren. He thinks he finally done it, pushed him so far away that he’ll never be in arms length again. Craig tells himself he’s okay with it. It’s what he wanted. It’s for the best. No one has to get hurt this way.

 

It’s not the truth.

 

But it’s his secret. A secret that only the walls of his house know. They are all knowing, all seeing, all hearing.

  
  



	8. can I ask you to dance?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Idk if I like this ending...I hope you guys do. Bless you all. Have a good night.

Thomas’ mom insists on picking Craig up for the dance. She calls the morning of. It’s a frigid Friday, and Craig is walking through town to get to school. He has the phone presses to his ear as she excitedly fills him in on details.

 

“Dear, you’re Thomas’ friend. He likes you quite a lot. Of course we’ll pick you up. It’s not out of the way—“ she pauses and there is the sound of shuffling. Like the speaker she is talking into is being pried at with her fingers.

 

“Sorry! Got to get back to work. We’ll see you tonight, Craig.” She explains as she hangs up. The sound of dial tone is loud in Craig’s ear. He presses the end call button.

 

He’s in the back entrance of the school. The one by the lacrosse field. Craig opts On skipping today. Instead he takes his shoes off, stuffs them in his backpack. His feet come in contact with the cold slushy grass. It stings, hurting his bare feet. He doesn’t care. He walks the distance, out to the middle of the field. When Craig’s dead center he finds himself sitting in the slushy snow. He lays down. His eyes come in contact with gray, gray sky. Tinted with blue.

 

There are no branches up above. It’s morning. There is no one and nothing holding him down.

 

He wants to say he is free. But the fire still licks at the walls of his stomach. He craves Kenny. Craves telling him he’s sorry. Craves begging for him to kiss him agains. Craves to admit he likes him as a little more than a friend.

 

“You can trust me”

 

Craig remembers what Kenny said that night at chipotle. He said he knew, but he didn’t. He thought he was sure but he wasn’t.

 

He’s thought it over.

 

Thought that maybe this distance has less to do with hurting Tricia’s and...

 

Craig closes his eyes. Inhales the crisp cold of mountain town. He sits up. Looking at his surroundings. He expects to be alone, but there stands Tricia. She is a few feet away from him. Clad in a tracksuit. Her hair pulled back into pigtails. Their eyes met. Her blues on his hazel. He quickly looks away.

 

She doesn’t. Tricia sits next to him. There is a pocket of silence that falls between them.

 

She has a coffee cup in her hand. The Tweek Bros logo written on it in cursive. She hands it to Craig. Craig takes it. It’s warmth transfers to his hands and he takes a sip of the beverage.

 

“You're dense, you know that?” Tricia starts. She rests her hand on top of Craig’s free one. The tip of her thumb caresses his flesh.

 

Craig looks down at it. It’s weird because they hadn’t had any moments of intimacy in a long time. They kept their distance. Lives separate.

 

“I love you. You know that right? I was stupid when I said what I was said.” Craig looks at her. He listens, quiet.

 

“I was hurt and manipulative. I’m sorry. But...Craig. Craig.” She turns to him, her eyes icy and cold. Craig knows she’s about to say something honest. Something he needs to hear but doesn’t want to. He doesn’t move his stare from hers.

 

“He loves you. You know that right? He’s been fucking in love with you for years! You never noticed. It’s not your fault, for fucks sake. Nothing that happened to you is your fault. He told me, you know? That he was teaching you how to slow dance. I was so happy. So happy that you were ready to move on. So happy Kenny was trying to win you over. Steal Thomas’ man.” She lets out. Loud and clear and honest. She’s not finished, though. Craig knows it.

 

“I could be wrong. I’m not going to tell you how to feel.” She starts, she squeezes Craig’s hand. Then reaches it up to rest on his shoulder.

 

“But I think you like him, Craig. I think this has less to do with me and more to do with you being hurt again.” She lets out a laugh, but it’s broken and painful. She wipes at her eyes where tears are forming. Her mascara is smeared.

 

“You have my blessing. If anyone will hurt you, it won’t be Kenny. Make your decision.” She finishes. Tricia leans in and kisses his cheek before messing up his wavy black hair. With a deep breath she stands and turns her back, making her way off the lacrosse field. Craig watches her retreating frame. The cup of coffee is still in his grip.

 

*

 

Craig roams the town of South Park the rest of the day. He’s been thinking and thinking. Walking passed storefront after storefront. Trying to come to a conclusion.

 

His fingertips run across the surface of brick building as he passes by. He should be in his last period at this moment, should be hiding in the art room with Token and Jimmy. Where Kenny hasn’t looked for him again. Hasn’t bothered to today, either, Craig is sure.

 

He comes to a halt at the crossing of street. Waiting for a few cars to rush by. He watches them ride off, passengers he knew for years.

 

When Craig finally arrives back home, he flips his mirror around. He takes in his reflection. He was expecting to see a scared, skinny kid. Craig doesn’t this time. It’s just him, it’s just Craig. Hazel eyes. Tan skin. Long limbs. Long nose. No evidence of the trauma he went through. Though it’s there. There underneath skin.

 

Craig rests his hand on the mirror, briefly. Before pulling back and closing the distance from him and his bedroom door. He gingerly closes it behind him. He walks down the stairs. Opens the back door, searches around for his bike. When he finds it he drags it to the street and hops on, pedaling, pedaling, pedaling.

 

*

He pedals until he is in front of the school. It’s out of session. The student body of Park county high school scurry to get out of the confines of the building. Craig stomps his foot down to come to a halt. His eyes searching out blond hair, orange parka.

 

It’s the truck he finds first. It’s a worn down thing with chipping paint. Rusted and aged. Craig walks the distance to the truck. As he gets closer he can see the forms of Karen, Tricia and...Kenny. They’re talking amongst themselves. Kenny flexing his arms as he tells them a story. Karen has her head thrown back in laughter. Tricia is all smiles.

 

It’s familiar, almost.

 

Craig steps closer to them. Close enough that they can see him coming. Tricia says something to Kenny that is inaudible to Craig. When he’s in front of them. In Kenny’s personal space, inches away. Craig looks him in the eyes.

 

He’s thought about this. Thought about doing this for the passed fucking week. Without any repression, any fear, Craig grabs the front of Kenny’s jacket. He presses his lips to the others. They back up against Kenny’s truck. Kenny’s hands fly to Craig’s waist, where he grips into them. He kisses back.

 

Their lips move together. It’s as if everything is thrown to the wind. Every person surrounding them, every bad thing, every fear. Gone. At least for the moment. When they pull away, Craig’s eyelids flutter open. Kenny’s are still closed.

 

Craig pushes blond locks away from Kenny’s eyes. He speaks.

 

“I don’t expect you to forgive me, to understand.” Craig pauses as he watches Kenny’s eyelids open. His blue orbs are on Craig’s. Staring, patient.

 

“But I am sorry. I want you too. I want to...slow dance with you. At this stupid dance. In Stan’s shed. At gardens. In the lacrosse field. I don’t care.” He chokes out. Craig steps away from Kenny. He takes his lower lip between his teeth.

 

“I want you so bad. If you want I’ll...I’ll see you tonight.”

 

And he walks away. Kenny is shock still, watching Craig ride away on his bike. Craig feels his heart beat stammer in his ears. Thump. Thump. Thump.

 

*

“Aaaahg! I hate hair straighteners, man!” Tweek hollers as he drops Craig’s hot iron. He sucks at the finger that is burnt. Clyde is on his bed, while Craig and Tweek stand in front of the mirror. Tweek picks up the hair iron and turns it off. They’re done with it, anyways.

 

Craig looks at the copy cat of him. His hair straightened and slicked back. Clad in a button down shirt that is white. He has black slacks on, shirt tucked into it.

 

“I thought you hated dances.” Clyde says as he flips through a porno he had brought with him. Tweek lets out a frustrated noise as he rips it from his hand. Throwing it in the trash bin next to Craig’s bed as he sits next to his boyfriend.

 

“I do,” Craig admits. He lets out a sigh. Checking his phone. No text from Kenny. Though Thomas and his mom have left him a voicemail, telling him they’d be there soon.

 

“Why are you going then, man? Oh god! Are you really Craig? Have government agents cloned you??” Tweek pries. He rips at his hair. Craig can only let out a chuckle at that. He squeezes between the two of them. They hadn’t heard about what happened at the end of the school day. Not a lot of people really saw or cared, anyways.

 

“I want to slow dance with someone.” He says, confident in this. Clyde and Tweek throw each other perplexed looks.

 

Before they can hound him with questions, there is a beep of a horn. Craig look over he shoulder, pulling up his blinds to see Thomas’ moms car. He licks his lips. Then stands.

 

“I’ll text you guys,” he says as he leaves them in his room. Craig trots down the stairs, opens his door, steps outside. He crosses the distance to Thomas, who is waiting for him. He sits in the back with him.

 

“COCK! SHIT! Are you ready…?” Thomas questions. Craig fiddles with his tie a bit. He’s nervous, he’s nervous that Kenny won’t show. That he’s making an ass out of himself.

 

“Yes” he lies.

 

*

 

They wall hug.

 

It’s not awkward. Craig stands next to Thomas, a cup of fruit punch in his hands. They talk to each other, two is company. The show out is quite a lot. A good chunk of people in their group therapy showed along with their friends and family. The dance isn’t exclusive to just their group either. Craig finds cute little couples of middle schoolers talking and dancing. He looks down at his phone. Nothing from Kenny.

 

“Do you want to dance?” It’s for Thomas. It’s Susan. She looks rather stunning tonight. Brown hair twisted into a braid halo. Although Craig has a distaste for her, he’ll admit she is rather beautiful. He watches as Thomas gets whisked away to the dance floor.

 

Craig waits. Watching his friend dance away, watching couples and loners wall hug.

 

He realizes then, that Kenny probably isn’t coming.

 

He made an asshole out of himself.

 

That dawns on Craig, suddenly. He folds into himself, he’s embarrassed. However, it’s okay. He says in his head. It’s okay.

 

At least he wasn’t scared to take a leap.

 

He climbs the steps to the church where the dance is being held. It’s warmer in this part of Colorado than it is South Park. Though it’s still nippy. The parking lot is full of cars. Devoid of other people. Craig pulls a cigarette from his pocket along with his lighter. He flicks the little wheel. Watches the flame come to life. Inhales to light his cigarette.

 

He exhales the fumes.

 

“Can I bum one?” Craig chokes a little on the menthol. He turns around, and there is Kenny. He’s not dressed up, he’s drowning in his orange parka. It was always too big for him. Craig wouldn’t expect any less from him. He bites at his lip. Dropping the cigarette and crushing it under his boots.

 

“Woah, Craig. Waste of a perfectly good cigarette.” Kenny jokes. He’s illuminated by streetlight. Glowing in its bright. Craig closes the distance between them. They are again inches apart. He looks up at Kenny.

 

“Thank you.” He lets out in his nasal voice.

 

Kenny shakes his head, and gathers Craig in his arms. He breathes in the scent of Craig’s shampoo. His nose brushing against his neck.

 

“Can I ask you to dance?” Kenny questions. He has his fingers curled into Craig hair. Presses a kiss to his forehead.

 

Craig can not say anything else but:

 

“Yes.”

 

There is no music. Just the hum of cars rushing by. Crickets and animal chorus. It’s okay, though. Nothing ever goes exactly as planned.


End file.
